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“What—??!”
But then Ben’s blazing past me too. Shirtless, again. Dripping wet. Sexy grin going full tilt. “Hey, Elliot.”
My hand goes to my heart, trying to still the hard thud.
“What was that?” I ask his retreating back, following as he jogs down the hall toward the living room where a small beast tears from one end of the living room to the other and back, circles the table, and disappears into the kitchen for all of two seconds before reemerging to repeat the whole process again.
“Is that… a dog?”
Ben laughs, coming up beside me. “He’s getting the lay of the land. Exploring his new digs.” Then tipping his head in my direction, he quietly adds, “Didn’t have much room to roam at the shelter. Kinda rough start.”
As if on cue, the dog starts to shake, like he’s a victim in all this rather than the bringer of chaos his grand entrance suggested.
Ben gathers up his quaking beastie and wraps him in a towel, flipping him onto his back within the crook of his huge arm with an impossibly masculine… coo.
And that sound coming from this big brute of a pro hockey player does something to my lower regions that is not okay. At all.
I gulp, watching those blue eyes go soft. Another second of this and I’m in danger of suffering a full-blown ovarian event. Which does not happen to me. Ever. I open my mouth to say something about his rescue, only I’m struck silent by mountains of hard-stacked abdominal muscles and solidly balled shoulders and biceps, all flexing and shifting and?—
Ben clears his throat. “Eyes up here, Elliot.” Then with a low chuckle, he peers down at his swaddled dog. “Or on baby. That’s okay too.”
Panicked, I glance around at anything other than the pure, unadulterated hotness in front of me.
The dog makes that squeaking wheeze sound again, staring up at Ben in adoration. I think. The eyes, they aren’t quite normal.
Carrying the little bundle, Ben walks over to me. “Surprise. He’s ours.” Then, “Kidding. He’s mine. But you can pretend he’s yours too awhile.”
“Umm. Thank you.” There’s a lot coming at me really quickly here, and I haven’t quite caught up. “But, where— I mean, when?”
“I was doing some work at the shelter through the team today. He kind of made a statement up front and… I guess, they didn’t feel like he had much of a shot at being adopted. I kind of just couldn’t leave him. Someone may have pulled some strings for me to be able to take him so fast. Dunno. I named him Zamboni. And sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up.” He meets my eyes, and I melt a little more. “Lara, they said he’s been there for months. I just couldn’t not take him.”
God, this man has the most beautiful heart.
“Ben, that’s so great.” And so sweet, I’m having a hard time swallowing past all the emotion. “I can help with walks and training and stuff when you’re not around if you like?”
“I’ve got a walking service set up already, so don’t feel like you need to do anything for him unless you want to.”
I step closer to get a look at Zamboni all nestled in his arms. Calm. Quiet… And then, instantly, not.
“Whoa.” Ben whistles down at where he’s now holding an empty towel. “Little dude has some serious Houdini moves.”
We stand there, watching Ben’s new dog ricochet from one end of the apartment to the other, our heads swinging back and forth like we’re at a tennis match, until I’m laughing so hard, I can barely catch my breath.
Ben steps into his room and comes back a minute later wearing a fitted T-shirt and folding the plastic drop sheet. He takes it into the kitchen and stuffs it into the bin as Zamboni zips between his feet.
“What do you think of him?” Ben asks, daring a look my way, something in his tone telling me my opinion matters. Maybe for more reasons than just because I live here too.
“He’s kind of—” Zamboni circles my leg and then leaps up to the highest point on the couch, where he stands like Simba from The Lion King.
“Kind of a lot?” Ben offers, looking away.
But that’s not what I was thinking. I shake my head, heading for the couch. “I was going to say, he’s kind of perfect.”
I’ve never had a pet. When I was little, I wanted one desperately. Begged my parents even though they kept telling me no. And then when my dad lost his job and we hit that really rough patch, I finally understood what it meant when they said we couldn’t afford one, and I never asked again.
Told myself I didn’t want one. That I was too busy. Too transient.
But now? Like this? “Can I buy him some toys?”
